Secret Santa?
by MyOwnCharacterInEverything
Summary: Timo has a huge crush on Berwald. So in order to get his attention, Timo enlists Halle Christensen (Fem!Norway) to help him rig the office Secret Santa. And as you can only imagine...fluffiness ensues. SuFin and hinted DenFem!Nor. Also, Iceland has a big sister.
**Secret Santa?**

* * *

Oh God, this was a bad idea. This was a really _really_ bad idea. Timo never should have let Halle rig the Secret Santa bag this year. Actually, he never should have asked her to rig the bag for the past few years. You see, there was a Secret Santa every year, and here Timo was, about to have Mr. Berwald Oxenstierna pick a name out from the bag. Timo watched as the stoic Swedish man pulled out a name from the unremarkable brown paper bag.

The man grunted, frowning at the name.

It was in that moment that Timo had the sneaking feeling that somehow, some way, the Swede was finally suspicious that something was up. All these years of manipulating the results… _Oh Martin Luther..._ And so, with a burningly red face, Timo scurried from the Swede's office, choking out some sort of goodbye. And the last thing that Timo saw before the door closed was the frowning Swede turning back to his paperwork.

* * *

Glancing back up at the closed door, Berwald was confused.

Mostly because his wife was flustered.

 _Geez, Waldo, he's not your wife. You've never even talked to the guy!_

Berwald sighed. His inner conscience always sounded oddly like his cousin Mattias… But really. What was wrong with Timo? It bothered him a little that Timo always seemed to be such a shaking mess around him. Was Timo allergic to his cologne or something? Berwald made a mental note to wear less in the future.

Berwald's gaze turned back to the name on his drawn slip of paper. _Bram Van Dijk_. A tall Dutchman who was happily (and quite unexpectedly) married to a girl named Rochelle, if Berwald remembered correctly. And Bram was Mattias's old friend. Perfect. Now Berwald could just have Mattias buy all the Secret Santa gifts for him. (Okay, so Mattias did went shopping for Berwald every year. Berwald just didn't care enough about this Secret Santa thing to buy the gifts himself. And besides, Berwald never knew what to buy, and since he'd take any excuse to get the annoying Dane out of house they shared…)

But why would he actually care about this dumb exchange anyway? He always got someone who was taken. The Beilschmidt brothers. Elizabeta. Roderich. The Italians. Even terrifying Natalya and that one Romanian that always flirted with her… Vasile? Was that what his name? But it didn't really matter, because either way, Berwald never got Timo, who was the only person he'd actually put effort for… But no. Berwald could almost swear this thing was rigged…

Hm… Nah. Timo was too innocent for that…

…right?

* * *

Looking back, Timo would feel slightly bad for interrupting Halle's coffee break. After all, everyone knew not to disturb her when she was sleeping or when she was on her coffee break. But he couldn't help storming into the Norwegian's office, ripping the rare relaxed look away from her favourite mug of silky smooth black coffee.

"Halle!" Timo squeaked, and not because of the Norwegian's death glare. Now, most people were terrified of Halle Christensen: so beautiful, ruthless and deadly that people often equated her to the Snow Queen in Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales or a siren in tales of yore. But Timo, one of the few people not scared of her, was too preoccupied to worry about his impending death by angry Norwegian. After all, this was _her_ idea, so it can't _possibly_ be _his_ fault.

And Halle would have murdered him without hesitation if Timo hadn't started spouting some sort of panicked incoherent ridiculousness. Something about how Berwald was suspicious that something was wrong with the bag and that Timo himself would be leaving the country out of embarrassment. Apparently, he couldn't face Berwald at all.

The Norwegian rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I've been rigging the bag for you for years. He was bound to suspect sooner or later. Even _he_ 's not that dense."

Timo scowled. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"We've never been caught, Timo. And I'm not about to start. Getting caught, that is."

And she was right; Halle Christensen was nothing if not careful. When she had a hand in _anything_ , nothing _ever_ happened that she didn't allow. She would _not_ get caught, and Timo knew that. And besides, even if someone were to suspect that the bag was rigged, no one would suspect them. They were in charge of the whole thing, after all. Why would they "cheat"?

Timo knew all of this. It's just that this year… This year was different. But the point was, this whole rigging business all started because of his stupid gay crush on Mr. Oxenstierna. Timo was still coming to terms with his sexual orientation, (as in he was still trying to figure it out) but there was one thing he knew for sure: his feelings for the scary Swede weren't going away anytime soon.

Hence, the rigged Secret Santa bag. Even though Mr. Oxenstierna was a confirmed homosexual, there were still a whole ton of women (and men! Not to mention everyone else…basically anyone with functioning eyeballs) who lusted after the oblivious Swede who drowned himself in work. Despite his apparent lack of interest in any non-working relationship, Timo couldn't stand the idea of someone having the chance to capture the Swede's heart.

"Besides, it won't even matter if we get caught this year. Now come on. Pick your name out already." Halle held out the paper bag, and after swallowing the biggest lump in his throat, Timo thrust his hand into the bag, pulling out the lone scrap of paper.

"Berwald Oxenstierna," Halle said knowingly as she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out all the other papers. Placing the names back into the bag, she smirked at Timo. "Well, aren't you lucky."

 _Lucky_. Ha. Timo certainly didn't feel that way.

* * *

Berwald was not a morning person. Now, everyone made fun of Halle for being addicted to coffee, but she drank straight black decaf for the taste. Berwald drank it for the caffeine. And right now, as he was blearily heading to work, he desperately need the boost. (Mattias usually made fun of him; Mattias was one of those people that went jogging with the cats at the buttcrack of dawn. Yes, Mattias took cats on walks. Perhaps Berwald will never understand his Danish cousin…)

With a heavy sigh and almost thoughtless dressing, he headed to the coffee shop. It was a small place: opened by Francis Bonnefoy and his sister Therese, but managed by the ruthless Kirkland siblings. (It was thanks to them that the Bonnefoys had places everywhere, but this particular one was on conveniently his way to the office.) Entering the shop, Berwald was relieved to see his favorite barista: Madeleine Williams. He had nothing against the other employees of this shop, but Alfred Jones and his sister Emily were too loud and talkative for pre-coffee Berwald.

"Good morning, Uncle Berwald," Madeleine said softly, knowing how Berwald hated noise before he had his coffee. Now, Maddie was a sweet Canadian girl, and she was distantly related to him: hence the "uncle" part.

"Just my usual black," he grumbled crankily. He would have been more pleasant under normal circumstances; fortunately, Maddie was used to pre-coffee Berwald.

"Sorry, Uncle," she replied. "Not today."

Berwald's head shot up. " _Wha-?_ "

"Your Secret Santa came in this morning and paid for this," she said. "It comes with this. And a note." With that, Maddie gave Berwald his breakfast. And the first thing Berwald noticed was the _Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino_.

And Berwald died a little inside, quickly looking around to make sure there were no witnesses. Even though he knew doing so was futile: no one was in the shop this early, so it was just him and Maddie. But he couldn't help it! If anyone, _especially_ Mattias, knew he had such a weakness for such an embarrassingly girly drink… Mattias would _never_ let him hear the end of it.

Berwald had to ask. "Who the-?"

"Sorry, Uncle. I can't tell you that. I was promised a really nice Christmas present at the end of it all if I kept my mouth shut."

Berwald sighed. Maddie, as innocent-looking as was she was, could really be ruthless sometimes. She had to have a backbone, what with her crazy family, he supposed. But really? _No one knew about the Frappuccinos._ He even made sure to burn all the receipts. So how…?

Wait! It came with a note! And… A box of cinnamon rolls? Berwald carefully bit into one; he did like cinnamon rolls after all. And- _Goodness gracious, who made these?_ Because they were the best cinnamon rolls he had ever had! _Sorry, Grandmother. Bless your soul._ But he needed to find out who made these, because he just _had_ to marry them. He didn't even care what they looked like; after all, beauty fades, but cooking is eternal. And so here he was at work: happily drinking his favourite frappuccino and eating the greatest box of cinnamon rolls he had ever had. Of course, Berwald didn't forget about the note. And so, after tossing the frappuccino cup into the fireplace, he unfolded the note. It was typed out rather than handwritten, which was a shame, but Berwald applauded his Secret Santa for having the foresight to hide such a key part of their identity. Either way, Berwald began to read the note:

 _Hello Berwald!_

 _I hope you enjoyed your coffee!_

 _You really ought not to be ashamed about indulging in something sweet!_

 _It's the holidays, silly!_

…okay, this person really liked exclamation points. But really, Berwald ought to have been creeped out by this note. After all, _no one_ knew about the coffee: not even his cat! Much less that he was so embarrassed about it… And yet somehow… Berwald found it cute instead.

 _Anyway, I also hope you liked the cinnamon rolls! I made them myself! And that recipe is important to me. It's a family secret!_

Berwald blinked at the note. If the cinnamon rolls were a family tradition, why was this person sharing so personal with _him_?

 _Now, you may be wondering why I shared something so precious with you._

Okay, was this person a mind reader or something?

 _And no, I'm not a mind reader_.

Wow, this person is good.

 _I'm just that good! ;)_

…okay, you know what? Berwald really wasn't shocked anymore. Either way, he shook his head and read the last part of the note.

 _But anyway, why did I give you the family cinnamon rolls?_

 _Well, you see Berwald, I like all kinds of buns._

 _Especially yours._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your Secret Santa_

Berwald inhaled sharply; his eyes widened. He straightened up in his chair in shock, one hand immediately flying to his butt, the other hand dropping the note, letting it flutter onto his desk. The next thing he knew, he was across the room. He kept a full length mirror his office for when he needed to fix his tie before a meeting. Now grateful that he had it, Berwald turned around, craning his head over his shoulder so he could see his backside.

 _Someone liked his butt?_

And again, Berwald really should have felt creeped out. But he felt… _flattered_ , somehow. But that was probably because Mattias was constantly telling him that he had a resting face that terrified the crap out of normal people. And besides, he never noticed anyone taking a liking to him. They stared, sure, but no one _talked_ to him. So Berwald always drowned himself in work; it's what he was there for, after all. And now Berwald realized that in doing so, he let his love life take one heck of a backseat…

And yet despite all of that, someone still found him attractive. Interesting.

* * *

The door burst open. "Hey Waldo! Whatcha-?" Mattias stopped, absolutely stunned at what he saw. " _What are you doing?_ "

Berwald normally would have whirled towards him. He should have been startled, yelling at him to stop barging on, and then he should have kicked Mattias out of the office.

Instead, Berwald, glancing up from staring at the mirror, asked Mattias a(n apparently) serious question.

"Mattias," he began, and Mattias braced himself. "Do you think my butt is attractive?"

…well. Of all the things Mattias was expecting (and he wasn't really sure _what_ he was expecting in the first place), it wasn't _that_.

"...okay," Mattias finally replied. "I think that all your bachelor-ness is finally getting to your head. Quit being such a girl."

Berwald gave a rare snort. "Like you're much better when you're drunk," he shot back.

Mattias bristled. "Hey, at least people come and talk to my fine Danish."

And before Berwald could reply, there was an oddly muffled voice that sounded like someone was speaking into a coffee mug.

" _Oh please_ ," the voice said, in a language that wasn't quite Danish (or like Berwald's Swedish for that matter), but it was still close. " _Like anyone_ _ **wants**_ _your fine Danish_."

Mattias turned around, and there was Halle "the most beautiful creature ever (and she also probably wants to kill me)" Christensen, sipping out of her coffee mug in all of her flawless Norwegian glory.

She met his stare evenly. "What?" she snapped, swallowing her sip of coffee and raising an eyebrow at him.

Mattias blinked. His brain never worked right whenever he saw her.

"But tell me something," she continued before he could even processed the fact she acknowledged his presence. "Are you equating yourself to a Danish pastry? Because if that's the case, are you supposed to be light and fluffy with very little substance? Or are you supposed to be half-baked and pasty?"

Berwald and Mattias both began started choking. More specifically, Mattias was trying to splutter out a response, and Berwald was choking on laughter.

"Mattias?" Everyone turned towards the door, and standing there was Halle's little brother Emil. Emil turned to Halle. "Sister, what is everyone doing in Berwald's office?"

"Well, little brother, I'm here to _personally_ escort this Dane out so Berwald can work." And Emil choked as his sister smirked and fluttered her eyelashes at Mattias, tilting her head cutely and moving slowly in his direction. As for Mattias's brain, if it wasn't functioning earlier, it was completely shut down now.

"But-" Halle stopped halfway to Mattias, and her voice dropped flirtatiously. "I still don't know why _you're_ here… _Mr. Andersen_." And suddenly, Mattias's brain somehow finally fixed itself. At least, enough to choke out a coherent thought.

"Oh that's right! Here you go Waldo! Your Secret Santa thingie!" Mattias handed Berwald a Christmas gift bag.

Emil blinked. "Mattias does your shopping, Berwald?"

Halle noticed Mattias and Berwald both looked like they just got their hands caught in the cookie jar, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh please. Nothing ever happens that I don't allow." And with that, she smirked into her coffee, taking another slow sip. Knowing full well that Mattias was watching, she stared him down with a raised eyebrow.

Mattias blinked at her. _Wait. Does that mean she knows that I-?_

(Probably.)

"Well anyway, thanks, Mattias," Berwald interrupted, awkwardly snatching the bag and scurrying out of the office. Emil scurried after him, grumbling something about UST. And Berwald realised that Emil had a good point. "Just don't mess up the papers on my desk," he called into his office from the hallway.

And with that, the door shut, and it was just Halle in the room with Mattias.

Mattias cleared his throat awkwardly. "So…do you like cats?"

* * *

 **A/N: I know. It's not Christmas. Well I'm doing a file dump, so deal with it.**

 **But anyway, I know that this ended suddenly.**

 **This was just a fun little thing I wrote for a Nordic Gift Exchange.**

 **But if you really want me to write another chapter...we'll see.**


End file.
